The Captain & the Cold War
by WhalesForSale
Summary: Natasha and Steve find themselves on opposite sides of the (Marvel) Civil War and struggle to keep their love and relationship intact.
1. Chapter 1

****Before you continue to the story, please read the note or you might be lost:**

The Cap & the CW was written after I had some inspiration about the new Cap3 movie. For those who don't know, in the comics, all the superheroes within this Marvel Universe begin a civil war over a legislative bill. After amateur superheroes (non-Avengers) take on a fight that goes horribly wrong and innocents are killed, the government wants all superheroes to register their aliases and true identities, and also agree to only act against threats when called upon by the U.S. government. It was called the Superhuman Registration Act.

Cap doesn't want to register, Stark does. Natasha is on Stark's side. Things on both sides get heated and deadly. This story takes place in the middle of the war. I wanted to see what would happen to a couple if they ended up on opposing sides. This may or may not be a one-off. Don't know yet if I have enough material for a series.

And if you're wondering what happened to Bruce and Natasha, yes this takes place within that Universe, but I'm throwing their whole relationship thing out the window. It never happened and I wish I could un-see that entire movie.

Enjoy,

Whales :)

* * *

He stepped inside the door cautiously, she could see his brow furrow even in the darkness. He didn't set his keys on the counter, choosing instead to keep them clamped noiselessly in his palm. He knew someone was in here. Her heartbeat quickened with each ponderous step he took into his apartment. He stopped dead and with nostrils flared he sniffed quickly at the air, his head beginning to turn in her direction.

"I let myself in," Natasha said. She was a curvy, slight woman of medium height. Her fiery red hair was in a long ponytail just above the base of her neck. Her bold, straight-cut bangs brushed her brow, scarcely falling short of her eyes.

People always told her that her eyes were her most striking feature. Not her full lips, generous hips or fine cheekbones, but her eyes. Cut like diamonds and brilliant as emeralds, they were her best feature and she knew it. Not that she couldn't sway her hips just so and tilt a situation to her advantage, but still it was the eyes that always caught them.

Just now she couldn't quite look him in the eyes, Steve. He had relaxed markedly since she'd revealed herself—she didn't see the point in dragging it on any longer—but there was still a rigidness in his posture that usually wasn't there when she was around.

But then, she'd been half responsible for it, hadn't she?

He was tall, Steve. A humble giant of a man. All smooth, broad planes and chiseled marble, like a walking Michelangelo statue. His knuckles popped when he opened his hand and set the keys on the counter. He shut the door behind himself and walked over to the kitchen sink, flipping on the recessed lighting under the cabinets as he went.

It cast stark shadows across the kitchen and living area, but the meager light still left her in relative darkness. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms. The silence stretched out and Natasha noticed the muscles in his jaw bulge. Steve was getting impatient. That's what he did when he got impatient.

Suddenly Natasha wasn't sure why she'd come. It had been a stupid, stupid idea. Her pulse quickened again, the normally steady thump-thump turned into a patter of nervous dread. Why had she talked herself into doing this? Who breaks into someone's apartment and just waits for them to come home, in the dark?!

Well, she had to say _something_.

"I… saw you at the meeting today and I realized it was the first time I'd seen you in—in God, almost three weeks. And I…" Natasha trailed off. He leaned his head to the side and popped the vertebrae. Something else he did when he was irate.

"Three weeks and five days," Steve said in a monotone voice.

Natasha swallowed. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"You _just_ realized that it's been almost a month. Guess Stark keeps you busy. But glad the meeting reminded you that I exist."

That stung. Natasha hadn't meant it like that. Of course she knew exactly the date and the time she'd last seen him. It wasn't like she didn't think about it every day, it's just… well she'd needed something to say and that was the first thing— _stupid thing_ —that had come to mind.

Natasha frowned at Steve deeply and shut her mouth. She would not take the bait, she would not. "I'm sorry. This isn't why I came, I didn't come here to start any crap with you. I'll let myself out."

Steve didn't move an inch, didn't say a word. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood coursing through her ears in a deafening roar. She shouldn't have come here. Natasha felt a lump rise in her throat and for an instant, an insane and absolutely terrifying instant, she almost cried.

"Why did you come?" Steve rasped. His voice was sharp and jagged, as if the words had sliced his throat open on the way out.

She stopped, her hand encircling the doorknob. Silence, thick and suffocating bloomed like sickly flowers in springtime. "Because, I wanted—I needed to see you and…" she stopped. _And smell you and look at you without looking away and have your things all around me making me feel safe. I needed to feel safe again,_ Natasha thought desperately.

Just then she heard him move and soon after felt the disturbance in the air that always told her someone was behind her. Steve was so close that she could feel his body heat against her back and his warm breath stir the hairs on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, still holding onto the doorknob.

"I didn't come here to fight you, Steve. I can't, and I don't want to," Natasha whispered.

It was a while before he responded. When he did speak, it cut her. "You didn't even look at me," he said softly. His tone was so wounded and pleading. She closed her eyes to guard against the guilt and the pain. "It's been three weeks and five days and you looked at everybody but me. You still haven't looked at me, not even now."

"I know."

"Why?"

She shook her head mutely, wanting to run away from this. Natasha wasn't sure what she was looking for when she'd come here tonight, but this wasn't it. Firm, strong hands gripped her shoulders and she jumped, eyes springing open.

Steve shushed her and squeezed in reassurance. "Turn around," he said. Natasha did so, but reluctantly. She couldn't meet his eyes, instead looking just over his shoulder.

"I'm losing you and I can't do anything about it," he told her sadly, angrily.

Natasha looked down. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that they could salvage this thing they'd created, that they could be together. But did she really believe that anymore? The things they'd said to each other that night… harsh things, had illustrated clearly that a line had been drawn and they were not standing on the same side.

She took his hand in hers and studied it. It was both rough and smooth, the ridges of his fingerprints both familiar and now alien to her. "Do you see me differently now?"

"What?" Steve asked. She was sure that her question seemed like a complete non sequitur.

She continued turning his hand over and running her fingers along the knuckles and grooves. "When you look at me, do you see me differently than you used to?"

Steve paused in thought and Natasha held her breath. "Natasha," he stilled her hands by closing them between his own. She froze in place, her eyes fixed on the middle of his chest. "Please, please look at me."

They had been happy once. Couldn't they just go back to that? Why did it have to be so hard? She just wanted to wake up on a sun-dappled Saturday morning, with him hard and expectant behind her, running his wonderfully solid hand over her hip and asking if she wanted eggs even though she knew that he had absolutely no intention of cooking anything, let alone getting out of bed.

Natasha was so afraid. She'd avoided him for the better part of a month. This morning both sides had had a meeting with the Governor and she'd had to be there, so did he. But she couldn't look at him, couldn't bear seeing something else in those eyes. It would destroy her, she knew, if Steve looked at her the same way he looked at everyone else. Natasha would know in an instant that she was no longer special to anyone.

Natasha dared herself to look up, she at least owed that to him. Their eyes met. Natasha gripped Steve's hand hard and sucked in a breath.

His eyes were Cerulean blue with flecks of gold in them. They were sad and tired, but… "I see you, Natalia." Steve meant it, he really did and she loved him for it. "Do you see me?"

"Yes," she replied, "and you're beautiful."

Steve didn't ask for permission, he just kissed her. Natasha kissed him back and forgot about everything else. She didn't come here for this, but that was alright.

Steve encircled his arms around Natasha's waist and lifted her clear of the floor. She was used to that and barely noticed. The feeling of being pressed against him again was indescribable. He was nearly crushing her to his chest, her breasts were mashed almost painfully against him, but she didn't care. She filled her nose with the smell of him and it sent a shiver of pleasure shooting down her spine. His pulse was hammering just as much as hers and their kisses grew deeper and more urgent. All of a sudden the light in the room began to fade and Natasha realized that Steve was carrying her down the hall towards his bedroom.

Steve sat down on the bed and set Natasha sideways on his lap. The bulge in his crotch was pressed against her bottom, and he closed his eyes and moaned when she shifted. He kissed her neck, her collar bone and the hollow of her throat. Natasha ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him. But then he stopped.

He placed a kiss so delicate and soft on her neck, just below her jaw, that she hardly felt it. "I needed you Nat. I needed you so bad." He nuzzled her neck and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, and breathed out a hot, contented sigh. "Missed you."

Natasha cupped his head in both of her hands and pulled his face up to hers. She'd needed him too and had missed him fiercely. She knew what she needed to do, what they _must_ do. Natasha cupped his face and held his gaze for several long seconds. "I need you to fix this Steve. I need you to find a way. For us. Okay?"

Steve nodded firmly, a promise. Natasha knew him, she knew he'd find a way to end the war or at least find a way for the two of them to remain whole if he couldn't. She kissed him deeply, and passionately with all the pent up longing, fear, love and lust she'd been holding in for nearly a month.

Steve flipped Natasha onto her back, and her world shrank to just the two of them and the bed they moved upon.


	2. Chapter 2

After they made love the second time, Steve couldn't sleep. More accurately he could sleep, but didn't want to. He was acutely aware that the footing that he shared with Natasha was still precarious, their feelings still tender and sore, and he couldn't be sure another night like this one would ever happen again. He hoped it would, God he hoped it would. So Steve stayed awake to watch her and to feel her breath against his neck and the tickle of her hair across his cheek. He wanted to remember these little moments, each and every one of them, just in case.

His love was curled up against him naked, warm and content. Hours passed and twilight turned into dawn. Minute by minute he watched the sun rise and suffuse the room with its warmth and golden light.

Natasha stirred when the light shone across her face and she began to make small, sleepy sounds. It felt good to have her wake up next to him again, he'd missed this so much. She mumbled something at him sleepily and kissed him behind his ear. Her sleepy sounds suddenly turned into _sexy_ sleepy sounds and then her hand was rubbing his chest, scratching his belly and trailing further and further down…

* * *

The air in the room was humid and smelled like sex and clean sweat. Steve found it intoxicating. Natasha had a good rhythm going. Steve was half-reclined against the piled pillows as she moved up and down over him. He liked being at this angle more than he liked laying prone. It gave Natasha better access and him a better chance to kiss and touch her where he wanted. She was playing with him this time, a wicked little smile ghosting at the edges of her mouth. Every time he leaned up to take one of her breasts in his mouth she pushed him back down and laughed. He didn't know how she expected him to resist them, seeing as they were bouncing not a foot from his face.

Steve scowled at her and then moaned as she did that thing with her hips, that undulating thing. It drove him half out of his mind whenever she did it. Natasha was in control and settled back into her previous rhythm when she saw him stiffen with pleasure. She chuckled and then leaned down to kiss and nip at him playfully. "How's that?" she purred against his lips.

He felt himself smiling back, but didn't answer. Instead he held her to him, sliding his hands up her flanks and around her chest to cup her breasts. He loved the feel of their skin sliding across each other and the sound it made, a soft papery sound. When she began to sit back up, Steve darted in for the kill and _finally_ captured one of her nipples in his mouth. It was the left one, his favorite. There was really no difference between them, but for some reason he loved the left one. Natasha half moaned and laughed as she tried to push him down again.

Steve wasn't having it. He hugged Natasha against him and sat up with her, sucking on her nipple until she gave a sharp intake of breath. Natasha ran her fingers through his hair and down his back. Steve bit and sucked his way up her chest to her neck, intentionally marking her as he went. Then she started making that noise, that little noise that she would flat out deny if he told her about it, and it pleased him to no end that she only made that sound because of him. Her rhythm became more erratic.

He was making noises himself and they moved together with a sense of urgency. Steve closed his eyes for a moment as a brief, but intense wave of pleasure rolled over him. When he opened them again, Natasha was looking directly into his eyes and his heart lurched sideways. Steve loved this woman, could feel that truth blazing through every cell in his body. And even though Natasha had only whispered it to him once when she thought he was fast asleep, Steve was sure she loved him back.

Her walls fluttered around him, tightening and releasing sporadically. Their gazes were locked and their breaths came out in short bursts. She was closing around him tighter now, and the pressure and ecstasy began to build. God she was so close, so close, so close… Natasha stopped abruptly. Her eyes widened in what seemed like terror or horror and she whipped her head around towards the bedroom door. Steve knew that someone must be behind her, because Natasha _always_ knew when someone was behind her.

He followed her gaze and then took in a startled breath—Tony Stark was standing in the doorway, just staring at them. Natasha snatched up the bed sheet puddled around her legs, and covered herself.

"Did you know your front door is open? Wow… This a bad time?" Tony asked with guileless innocence.

Of all the people that could have been standing in that doorway, it had to be _him_. The man who had torn the superhero community in half. The man who had caused a gulf between him and Natasha. The man who just had the balls to walk into Steve's apartment uninvited and unannounced.

He barely heard Natasha cry out in surprise as he swung her off of him and bounded out of bed. All Steve was aware of was the pounding in his ears and the red that had suddenly flooded his vision. He didn't know that he was roaring as he went for Tony, he didn't know that Natasha was screaming for him to stop, and he didn't know that Tony's mouth had dropped open when he realized what was about to happen.

All Steve knew was that he was going to kill Tony Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks in advance for your Reviews. Keep 'em coming and keep me honest!**

* * *

"Shut the door!" Natasha bellowed, and Stark quickly did as he was told. Steve didn't want to hurt her, he really didn't, but she needed to get off of him _right_ _now_. He'd always known that Natasha was stronger than she looked, but when she'd jumped onto his back and slammed her knee into the back of his thigh so that his leg buckled, he was still surprised.

He was back on his feet again, but she was still hanging onto to him, her powerful thighs squeezing painfully into his lower ribs like a python. And worst off all, she had him in a choke hold.

"Calm down, Steven," Natasha hissed next to his ear.

"Gerr-off me!" Steve spluttered. He spun around in a circle, hoping to fling her off onto the bed. All it did was loosen the pressure of her squeezing thighs and tighten the squeezing on his throat.

"Don't do that again. Ste—" Natasha cut off in a growl as he spun them around again anyway. He was going to kill Stark. He was going to bash in his pampered little rich boy face—but only if he could get away from Natasha.

"Tasha, don't wanna hurt you," he grunted.

To his fury, she actually laughed. "Please, you _can't_ hurt me. Plus it won't be the first time I took down a giant." And then she made good on her claim by tightening her stranglehold on his throat. "Time to calm down," she told him patiently.

Her forearm felt like an iron bar across his throat, but he could have easily stopped her— _if_ he'd wanted to break her wrists. Steve didn't want to hurt Natasha, he just needed to get at Stark. That son of a gun was not walking out of this apartment alive.

"Mmmm lemme go!" he tried to roar, but it came out in a strangled croak. Steve took a step towards the door and she increased the pressure.

"Take one more step and I swear to God I will black you out."

True to her word, he was starting to see black spots swimming at the edges of his vision. But he had to get to Stark and short of smashing Natasha into the wall, this was his only option. So he took another step and heard Natasha mutter something that sounded like _stubborn_ and _sonuva bitch_ in Russian, but he wasn't paying attention anymore. He took another step. It was getting harder to breathe. He was almost there, just a few more feet and—

—something itchy and scratchy was needling into his back and backside. Steve groaned. _What the hell?_ Where was he?

"You done?" Natasha's familiar voice asked.

"Naaa," he tried to say her name, but his throat was on fire. Steve blinked a few times and then lifted his head. He'd been lying flat on the carpet just a few steps from the door. Natasha's cool hand grabbed him roughly by the chin and yanked his attention back to her.

She was sitting astride him, wearing the white and royal blue silk kimono he'd bought her for Christmas. It was untied and underneath she was still naked as a jaybird. The irony of their position was not lost on him and Natasha smiled as she saw it dawn on his face. He started to push himself up onto his elbows, but she growled at him.

" _I said_ , _are you done?_ "

The blood was still wooshing in his ears and he felt as if someone had walloped him in the face. Steve sighed defeatedly and flopped back down. "Yeah."

* * *

Natasha was livid. She'd sent Steve into the bathroom to shower and cool off after he'd promised that he wouldn't try to kill Tony. Now she sat on Steve's bed perfectly still, barely hearing the shower running just a door away. The white and blue of the kimono set off her red hair and complimented her pale skin. She loved this robe. Steve had given it to her on their first Christmas together.

He'd tried to make everything perfect. He'd gotten a tree, hung lights around his apartment, put stockings above the gas fireplace and made homemade eggnog that turned out to be silky and delicious. Neither of them had ever had Christmases like this growing up, and he'd tried so hard to make it nice. And she _loved_ it. The cozy feel in the room, the smell of pine in the air and her lover, Steve, grinning at her sheepishly when he'd shown her in. She'd stepped into his apartment and then stopped cold as she took everything in. A sudden flood of emotions rushed through her. Steve had done all of this for them. She'd whipped around and kissed him. He'd been surprised, but pleased, and told her she hadn't even gotten her presents yet.

He couldn't have understood that no one had ever gone out their way to do something nice for her, just because. After they'd made love that night she'd put on the kimono and modeled it for him. As his eyes roved over her, hungry and approving, she'd felt a surge of pride that _he_ wanted _her_. Later it hit her that he hadn't gone out his way to do this _just because_. Actions always spoke louder than words and Steve was telling her something _very_ important.

That was when she knew. Natasha had heard people say that ' _love_ _does_ ,' but she'd never really understood what that meant. But on that cold December night, when she'd been wrapped up warmly in his arms, she'd gotten it. Steve was telling her that he loved her. It was a heady and terrifying awareness.

The only people who knew they were together were Clint and Sam, and neither would give them away. They'd agreed earlier on to keep their relationship quiet, otherwise it would complicate things both professionally and personally.

It had worked for a long time, but as of ten minutes ago shit had just gotten _very_ complicated.

Natasha was sitting perfectly still because she knew that if she got up and met Tony in the living room, she would hurt him. Natasha agreed with the Superhuman Registration Act and she supported Tony. But Tony had just compromised her and Steve. He hadn't known they were together and technically that meant she had just been caught sleeping with the enemy. Even more accurate, sleeping with the soon to be criminal leader of an enemy superhuman _army_. To put it simply, this was a problem.

She had just forcibly kept Steve from harming Tony, but now she was having second thoughts. The more she thought about it, the more all of Natasha's instincts screamed that she eliminate Tony immediately. It was the old rule of strike fast, strike hard, and don't let them see you coming. He had blown their cover; he was a threat. It could only be rectified in blood. Tony had forced Natasha into this position and she was furious with him for doing it. She did not need another complication, her life was already _beyond_ complicated.

Natasha had already run through a dozen or more scenarios about how she and Steve could escape, where they could go, how long they would need to be underground, which people would probably come after them, who they could ally themselves with, and so on. The new bill meant that they couldn't stay in the States, they'd probably have to be ex-pats for the rest of their lives… That would kill Steve, he was always happiest when his feet were on American soil. And of course, all of these deliriously involved scenarios began with killing Tony.

Steve was many things, but he was not a murderer. He'd been 'in the red,' as they called it in her profession, and would have killed Tony in a fit of rage. She, on the other hand, was prepared to do things differently. This would be a premeditated, meticulously calculated murder. There was no way to do it without Steve knowing, and there was no way he would look at her the same after he found out.

Tony Stark was a powerful and influential man who was at the forefront of Superhuman politics. And, there was also the small business of him being a darling American hero. If Natasha were really calling this a spade, then what she was planning was essentially an assassination. Killing him would have worldwide repercussions which Natasha knew she couldn't begin to predict or fathom. But she had to protect them. _Love does_. What choice did she have?

Natasha frowned in thought. There was one possibility that she hadn't considered. What would happen if she _didn't_ kill Tony? She should kill him because it was, after all, the most prudent move. But what would happen if she didn't?

She could talk to him. Yes, she could talk to him first and find out where he stood with what he'd just discovered. After that she would decide. There was no need to be hasty, she had time to make an informed decision. Natasha stood and walked over to Steve's dresser. She opened one of the drawers that he'd bequeathed to her and pulled out her spare hairbrush, and began raking it though her tangled tresses. She closed and tied her kimono securely and made her way out into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Natasha took slow, measured steps down the hall and immediately she began to feel the surge. Like tiny bolts of electricity zipping up and down her limbs. She began to feel invincible, god-like, and unstoppable—it was _thrilling_. At the darkest point in her life she had lived for these moments and sought them out like a drug. It was the only time she could erase everything else and just exist in the present. She could taste the power of it rising up the back of her throat like a scream. Only now, the power was tainted. Tainted like a slick of foul grease floating on top of crystal blue water. Natasha wasn't the same broken person she had been back then. She accepted that who she'd been and the things she'd done were wrong and terrible. It was a devastating knowledge that she had to live with every day.

She had no desire to become that woman again, but even still Natasha could admit that there were times when she missed this. Times when the darkness within her longed for these little moments of thrill when she could walk into a room and decide who lived and who died.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve's breath was sharp and uneven as if he'd just run a thousand miles. He was unfocused, there was blood on the floor, blood on the back of his hand. The skin on his knuckles was scraped away, raw and angry red. His hands were shaking. He never shook, that was odd. He couldn't focus. Steve lowered his hand and looked down at Natasha, on the floor, who was still screaming at him but the sound reached him as if he were standing at the far end of a tunnel. His eyes slid past the head that she held cradled in her lap, slid past the ruined face, past the deep crimson that soaked her silk kimono, and smeared her moon-pale thighs red.

His stomach twisted queasily and he screwed his eyes shut. When Steve opened them again everything slammed back into focus.

"YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE. THEY'RE COMING, STEVE. YOU HAVE TO GO! _GO!_ " Natasha screamed at him. Steve flinched back, her words like a cold hard slap. _Coming?_ _Who was coming?_ Then his eyes focused on Tony, still lying in a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor. Blood bubbled out of a hole in his face—Steve abruptly realized that it must be his _nose_. The man had been handsome once, and the thought made Steve's stomach heave.

"—decided not to. You ruined it." Steve barely caught Natasha's hoarse whisper. He didn't understand what she was talking about. "You ruined it!" she hissed at him again through gritted teeth. The knife was still clenched in her fist, speckles of blood like dark rubies glittered on the black steel blade.

He took a step toward her, meaning to put a hand on her shoulder, but something crunched audibly beneath his boot. When he lifted his foot to see what it was, there was a tooth. Tony's tooth. There were others scattered about the floor, some broken and some whole, lying in their own little pools of blood. _That sound_ , he thought dazedly. There had been a sound like a dozen tiny pebbles pinging off of metal in quick succession right as Steve had punched him. It had been Tony's jaw shattering like porcelain and then his teeth having a brief, but adventurous flight across the kitchen floor. Steve didn't think he'd actually hit the man that hard, but then there was a small voice in his head, vicious and sneering, that told him the truth. _No, you tried to hit him as hard as you could._

In a blink he was over the sink, vomiting up everything he'd ever eaten in his life. Steve didn't remember crossing the distance; focusing was hard. Hands still trembling, he filled his mouth with cold tap water and spat it out. He pushed himself back up from the sink and took in a ragged breath, almost a gasp. The bitter taste of bile still fouled the back of his tongue.

"Natasha I didn't mean… I didn't… you have to—"

"They will hunt you and if you fight, they will kill you. If they can't kill you, they will put you in chains and throw you into the deepest, darkest hole you can imagine, on the edge of the world. Once they break you, they'll trot you out in front of the world as an example to the others. It's the protocol Tony tried to warn you about; it's their failsafe. Capture an enemy Inhuman or a Superhuman, doesn't matter. One notorious enough will turn the political tide, like you," Natasha ended in a breathless whisper.

Natasha was afraid. He could read it in her disposition, hear the slight tremble in her voice. _That_ terrified him. "Natasha, I'm—"

"What am I…? We don't have time." Natasha shook her head violently as if dispelling a thought, and then she focused on him. "You have to get out. You have to run Steve, go now. RUN!"

A small aircraft droned in the distance, and Steve could tell that it was heading in their direction. He paused for an agonizing instant with his eyes locked on hers. So much he needed to say, to do, but there was no time. Then, feeling an immense coward, Steve turned for the door and ran.

* * *

Natasha swept into the living room. Tony was peering curiously into Steve's refrigerator and closed it when she stopped beside him. "I always wondered what a Super Soldier ate for breakfast. Now I know: pastrami and orange juice. Kinda disappointing," he said.

"What were you expecting?"

"I always imagined he Rocky-ied it in the morning and pounded a couple dozen raw eggs from the homemade chicken coop he keeps hidden in the back room. Here I could've made witty repartee about him drinking bird fetuses and scandalous accusations of misconduct with a chicken, but alas I've been left with pastrami. Must he be so pedestrian?"

Natasha chuckled softly. Before she really knew Steve, she'd imagined something similar. She walked over to the kitchen island and took a seat on one of the stools. "We need to talk," she said, "about what you just saw."

Tony winced and leaned against the sink with his arms folded. "Red, I will admit that in the far distant past I may have been curious about who you tumbled. But I gotta tell ya, the sight of those old man toes curling mid-ride made my irises explode."

"Tony…"

"I know, I know," he sighed and waved a hand. "So let's deal, girlfriend. You trying to turn him to the cause?"

"That's not your business."

"Well it would be if you can work it. What's the deal with you two anyway? You actually dig him? I mean sure his abs have abs, so Pepper tells me, but he's so freakin' grumpy! It's like being in a room with my gramps except that Rogers can throw you across the room, instead of just staring at you with rheumy eyes full of sad, sad disappointment."

Natasha didn't answer. It was easy to get sidetracked with Tony; his mind flitted from thought to thought faster than a hummingbird on a sugar high.

"Got it, not my business. But wait, seriously, does he have moves that nobody under ninety knows about? Kinky old guy sex," he paused to shudder. "You do realize that you're robbing the grave, right?"

She afforded him a small smile that she didn't allow to reach her eyes. All business. The clock was ticking and she honestly wasn't sure if he was playing her or playing _with_ her, but the longer he stalled the more tense she became. _Just relax and see where he goes,_ she told herself. She pushed out the breath she'd been holding deep in her lungs and forced the tightness in her shoulders to loosen.

Tony continued, "Look, I don't need to tell you that the conflict of interest here is enormous. Like giant pink elephant in the room with a Mahout on its back enormous. So, is this going to be a problem? Is _Rogers_ going to be a problem?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I don't do problems, Tony."

"Interesting turn of phrase," he muttered.

"If Steve had compromised me, then I would've ended it. But I haven't ended it. So the question is, is this a problem for _you_?"

Tony paused, a look of deep consternation on his face. Now was the moment. Natasha took a quiet breath and slowly slipped a slim black throwing knife from the hidden pocket in her sleeve, and waited.

* * *

The water ran cold down the rippled muscles on Steve's back and he shivered. He didn't like the cold, it reminded him too much of… other things. But it focused him. Focused him like a whetstone on a blade, scraping away the dullness until nothing remained but the blade itself. His control had shattered, leaving the fragments of his usual calm scattered in a dozen places within his mind. It wasn't normal for him to lose control and he didn't like it.

With each icy trickle, he gathered the fragments and began forming a box. His calm was the box and within it he contained his anger, his rage. He needed to remake the box again and stuff all of his rage and humiliation back into it. Steve was almost done, everything was nearly back in its proper place, but try as he might he couldn't seem to lock the lid tightly again. Well, it would have to do for now.

After stepping out of the shower he dressed quickly, throwing on a long-sleeved T-shirt and a blue quarter-zip sweater over a pair of dark pants. Disjointed, muffled words floated to him from beyond the bedroom door, but they were too low to make out. Steve sat on the edge of his bed and stamped his feet into his boots, pulling the laces tight. He sat back and sighed deeply. This was _not_ how he'd envisioned his morning at all. All he'd wanted was to spend the morning, and perhaps the afternoon, making love to Natasha. Now he had to confront the last man he ever wanted to see, in his own home. But there was nothing for it, so he stood to go.

From down the hall, he saw them talking to one another in the kitchen. Natasha sat on one of the stools, still wearing her robe, looking intently at Tony. There was a furrow between her brows and she frowned as she listened; a sign that she was deeply disturbed by something. Tony was making gestures and talking about stopping _something_ before things got out of hand, and Natasha was nodding in agreement. But Steve had missed the first part of the sentence, so he didn't give it any thought.

Natasha finally looked in his direction as he walked into the living area and offered him a small smile. "Hey," she said in a reassuring voice, "c'mere." She beckoned to him with her hand and frankly Steve was surprised _not_ to find a knife in it. Natasha always kept throwing knives secreted about her person, and he wouldn't be shocked at all to discover that she'd sewn hidden pockets in the sleeves of her robe. Her knives and Taser discs had saved various team members on more occasions than any of them cared to remember.

In a move that he would later come to regret, Steve ignored her and walked over to stand in front of Tony. He studied the man with cold, hard eyes. This man didn't deserve his time, or Natasha's if he had any say in the matter, but he still needed to find out why Tony had come.

"Why are you here?"

"Hi, Cap. Listen, I most humbly apologize for—"

"Why are you here, Stark?"

Tony sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I just got word from my contact at the Senate. There's been a massive new development with the bill. I will preface this by saying that believe it or not, I had nothing to do with—"

"That's funny, 'cause I don't believe a word that comes outta your mouth."

" _Steve_. You need to hear this, it affects all of us," Natasha said.

Steve glanced at Natasha, his face heating. "All of _us_? Last time I checked you were still will him." That was unfair and he knew it, but the knowledge of where she stood on this issue, and who she stood with, still bothered him.

Frowning, Natasha opened her mouth to reply but Tony spoke over her. "Buddy, we're on the same side here."

"Yeah? Then what's on the agenda this time, Stark? You want me to give up the right to defend myself now too? Agree to be a talking monkey for the government? I won't do it. And don't call me 'buddy.' You're not placating a child."

Tony's visage darkened. "Placating," he said, as if testing the word, "well I had no idea your vocabulary held more than grunts and two-syllable words. That's astounding."

The box of calm in Steve's mind quivered, but he mentally clapped a hand over it. Much as this man got under his skin, he stubbornly refused to lose control again. "What was so important that you felt like you'd be welcome without knocking?"

Tony spun around to Natasha and thrust a finger back in Steve's direction. "He says I can talk now. Which would be awesome if I could finish a sentence. You think you could get him to shut the hell up so I can drop the extremely important information for which I came?"

Natasha sighed and turned to Steve, saying, "Tony just told me that the Senate committee added an amendment to the bill that's already close to passing in the House. It's called the Omega-2 Protocol and from the sound of it, it's going to be bad news for all of us. There's a small group embedded within the committee that… Steve, are you listening?"

"Bad news," Steve shook his head at Tony, in wonder. He just couldn't believe the gall of this man. "Bad news was the bill that I asked you to stop before it hit the floor of the House. Bad news is the American people distrusting any unregistered Superhuman or Inhuman, which you help fuel with your public propaganda appearances. Bad news was you creating a monster like Ultron, when I begged you to see reason, that made an entire city and thousands of people fall out of the sky." _And bad news,_ he added to himself, _is you ruining any chance that Nat and I could be happy._

"So I'm not entirely sure what I can do for you here, Stark. Did you expect to come over and maybe we'd pal around a bit before we rolled up our sleeves and got down to solving _your_ problems, just like old times?"

Tony was silent for a long moment. "I didn't create this problem, Steve. But yes, I came here because I thought that we could do this thing together. That we could make it better as a team."

"You killed our team."

"Excuse me?"

"You saw an opportunity, even though half of us didn't want anything to do with that bill, and as usual you went your own way and tore us open, right down the middle."

"For the record, I never saw this is a _personal_ opportunity. We needed to get out ahead of this thing. The bill was coming with or without me."

"So you just thought it was a good idea to hasten it along?"

"Like I said, they've been sitting on this bill for years waiting for the right time. And after those dumbasses—the New Warriors or whatever—pulled their stunt on national TV, the House whipped that bill outta their back pocket the next day. I didn't want to get involved in this, Rogers. But hell I figured that it was better to help steer the ship, than let everyone get sucked into its wake!"

"So Tony knows best," Steve sneered.

"In this case, you're damn right. Tony does know best," Tony snapped back. "I grew up around politicians and world changers; I know how these people think. I know how they work. You spent two lifetimes unconscious in an ice cave and before that you'd barely crawled out of the slum you were spawned in. This is _my_ turf, and I know what I'm doing."

"Know what? I don't need you to help fix this. You've done enough already. I'll see you to the door," Steve said and turned to usher Tony away. Behind Tony, Natasha waved furiously at him, but he ignored her.

Unfortunately, Tony didn't move an inch. "Oh, _ohhhh_ so that's what this is about! Uh-huh I get it; it makes sense now. It's all clear."

Steve sighed deeply and turned back to Tony. "What're you talking about?"

"You don't like me, you never have. You've always wanted a reason to be righteously pissed at me, and now you've found one."

"That's a load of crap. I don't like you when you're being an arrogant, reckless, entitled, limelight- sucking, selfish jackoff. Which happens to be all the time, so actually yeah you're right I've never had much use for you."

"Ouch, if my heart weren't shielded by the ARC Reactor I might actually cry. No, see what you can't stand is that I'm not one of your soldiers. I'm not all, 'Yes sir! Let me lick your boot, sir!'" Tony smiled and walked right up to Steve, his attitude and posture challenging him. The animal instinct within Steve roared at the challenge and demanded that he meet it. They were so close now that their chests were almost touching.

"Okay boys, why don't we take this down a notch?" Natasha urged.

Inside, Steve's box rattled and shook with suppressed rage.

"What you can't stand," Tony continued in a near whisper, "is that I don't run to daddy for permission to do what needs to be done. You can't stand that I have more brains, more balls and more vision than a vial of serum can ever grant you. But what really keeps you up at night, is that deep down in that cold pit in your stomach, you're afraid that without me you'll never be good enough. You don't think I—"

Steve didn't realize that he'd stopped breathing. He didn't see Natasha standing up from her stool and palming something into her hand. All he could see was Tony. All he could hear were those hateful, _truthful_ words pouring out of his mouth. He needed to stop hearing those words.

The box shattered.

In one fluid motion Steve grabbed a fistful of Tony's shirt in one hand, and pulled his other back into a fist. In a moment, everything slowed down. Steve could feel his own face twisting up into a snarl, could see the sudden surprise and flicker of fear in Tony's eyes, could hear Natasha's cry of, " _Stop!_ " reverberating in his ears.

Steve didn't care. His calm and control were splintered into a thousand pieces and there was no putting them back together. His fist began a downward arc as he swung for Tony's head.

A fleeting glimpse of something small and black darted through the air behind Tony and there was a small _chunk!_ of impact. Almost at that same instant, Tony's eyes widened in pain and he arched backwards, loosening Steve's grip and shifting the aim of his swing. It was both the moment that Steve was jolted into the terrible reality of what he was doing and also the moment that his swinging fist connected with Tony's jaw.

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